Page 15

TARAJI

T araji huddles in the backseat of the car, knees pulled tight against her chest. Her body feels foreign, contaminated by the memory of unwanted hands.

The restaurant incident replays in her mind, those fingers groping her near the bathroom, that sickening grin.

She shivers despite the warm air flowing through the vents.

Nikolai's last words echo in her ears. "Wait for Daddy." Then he vanished, his eyes carrying a darkness she hadn't seen before.

Her phone vibrates against the seat. She stares at it, watching the screen light up then fade to black. Another missed call. Nikolai. The third one since she left the restaurant. She can't bring herself to answer, can't find words for what happened.

The car glides to a stop in front of his building. The doorman nods at her with unusual familiarity.

"Go straight up, miss. Make yourself comfortable." No questions, no hesitation. As if he already knows exactly who she is.

The elevator carries her silently to the penthouse. Once inside, the safety of his space should comfort her, but instead, the memory floods back with vicious clarity, that hand on her ass, the gleam in the stranger's eyes.

Her stomach lurches violently. Her legs give way, and she sinks to the floor, breath coming in short gasps.

The door crashes open.

Nikolai stands in the frame, his suit jacket gone, shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows. Blood spatters his knuckles in crimson constellations. His chest heaves with each breath.

Their eyes lock. He embodies darkness.

Jaw rigid, eyes feral and nostrils flared. Then something shifts as he registers her fear. The violence recedes, replaced by an intensity that looks almost like desperation.

"Nikolai," she whispers, "what did you do?"

He crosses the room in swift strides and kneels before her. His hands tremble as he lifts them, displaying the blood like an offering.

"He won't touch you again. No one will."

She stares at his hands, at this man she thought she knew. Her heart hammers not just with fear but with a twisted, pulsing thrill. He did this for her.

"Did you—" Her voice catches. "Did you kill him?"

Nikolai cups her face, his blood-stained thumb grazing her cheek with unexpected tenderness.

"He'll live. Barely. I needed him to understand what happens to men who mess with what's mine."

A tear escapes down her cheek. He wipes it away, leaving a smear of blood across her skin. She should recoil but remains still, captivated by his rawness, his fierceness, his devotion.

His voice breaks. "You're my baby girl. I'll burn the world for you. Do you understand?"

She nods, her pulse thundering, arousal and fear tangled into an indistinguishable knot.

"Yes, Daddy."

He pulls her into his arms, holding her tight against his chest, as if he can shield her from every threat, even from himself.